The Listener
by ScarredAngelft
Summary: A month after the break up she was called back to explain. Her former lover deserved that much at least, so she would answer the questions he sent.


"I didn't love him, did I ever tell you that?" She sat up slightly, using her arms for support. "Not at the start." Her eyes had that faraway look that they got whenever she tried to convince herself that something didn't make her heart ache. The listener's eyes flicked over her features. He almost wished that she could see the hurt that was painstakingly etched across her face. Maybe then she wouldn't be talking like this, maybe then she wouldn't be relating this to him with such a cold voice. Her head cocked, slightly tilted to the left as she looked through him preparing to make her next statement. It came in the same monotone voice, like she was making an observation of someone else's life.

"We fucked though, my god did we fuck. We said 'I love you' too. I didn't mean it though. Maybe he did..." She shrugged, letting herself drop back onto the couch.

"Rinoa-" He started, but she cut him off with a single word, a command.

"Don't." He obeyed despite the lack of force behind the word. It wasn't demanding, instead it seemed robotic. She had heard what he was going to say so many times before, that the cut-off had become automatic. She was sick of listening to the broken record repeat the side of her former lover over and over. The ring in his pocket, the words in his mouth, the love in his eyes. Only the love had changed, now all anyone ever found in them was pain. The others, she knew, would stay where they were as long as she was gone. She only hoped that the pain would disappear without her. But it was certainly taking it's time he still didn't talk, didn't sleep, and Kadowaki was ready to feed the commander intravenously. She found all of that impossible to understand. Attachment, even the attachment created by love should never be allowed to run that deep. Didn't he know better? Letting it form like that was dangerous, it gave the other person power over you, the power to hurt you.

The man looked up as she paused, wanting to determine the cause of her sudden silence only to be surprised by her change of expression. It must have been a slow change, but he could see how much of the control of her emotions had been lost over the last few moments. Her eyes were no longer glazed, they glittered with something like pain. But it was different, she didn't allow the pain to show like that…Anger? If so, she must have been furious, her small body so charged with the emotion that she didn't seem to realize he could hear the words that she had begun to hiss under her breath.

"Moron…Absolute moron. You don't give that power. Ever. How dare he…" She continued to rant, but he was no longer listening. Moron? Who? What the hell was she going on about? He was completely lost as to her turn of thoughts and options raced through his analytical mind. Was she discussing him? Her former lover? Her mutters continued to seep into his thoughts and his body began to tense in frustration, though no one who didn't know him would be able to tell his emotion. She could though. Across the room and she didn't even have to look at him. She could tell, and her muttering faded. She knew the subtle changes that would be occurring in the lines of his face, and the meaning of each alteration. She cringed inwardly, wishing she had thought to control her tongue despite the strength of her thoughts.

"What. The. Fuck?" He spoke slowly emphasizing the last in a cold voice that hinted at anger. She could hear what he was trying to tell her, beneath the words, and she honestly didn't blame him for his rising temper. In fact she was already amazed at what he had sat through the limits of his restraint and she knew it. But somehow she couldn't stop, some small part of her wanted to see a reaction, wanted him furious. That part needed to see that she could still cause a reaction from someone. She decided that she needed it because of the way he had sat staring at her, his gaze completely void of emotion. He was expressionless, regardless of whatever went on inside his head. The lack of feeling that he managed to evince was something she was jealous of. She wanted to feel that; the cold would be better than the longing that had been overriding her senses. She wanted to be emotionless, she didn't want to let herself hurt. But it was a struggle not to wallow, and that struggle was a painful battle that she had yet to win. She couldn't achieve that inner ice, not yet so she chose to pretend. She closed her eyes and settled further into her couch. Calming herself slowly she began acting as though she felt less than he did. When her reply came moments later her voice was calm, seemingly unphased by the vulgarity of his question, she actually managed to sound flippant.

"Life's first lesson, haven't you learned it yet?"

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Did I really just say that?_

That had to have crossed the line she had been toeing. If the question before had been vulgar this reaction would be overtly aggressive. She could hear him shifting, sitting up perhaps. Maybe standing to walk over and...and do what? She honestly didn't know how he would react. She had never done this to him; something had always made her stop before she could infuriate him. She had never wanted to do before. That scared her, why she should need his reaction? She may deny try to deny herself that need now, but it was too late,. Her eyes closed, she didn't dare to look, didn't want to see the hurt on his face, or the anger that she imagined in his eyes. This man was not one she should be testing. He could snap and kill her; no one would comment. Her ears perked at the sound of a quiet sigh, it sounded defeated. It was small, so small she almost didn't hear it, and the words that followed were even harder to detect.

"I'm working on it. I don't think it will bother you again. Not that you worried in the first place." He waved a hand negating the emotion that had almost been shown. "But please, continue." She lost it then, a moment of pain slipped through her defenses. Any was far more then she could handle, and her ice mask cracked just for a moment, she tried to force out some sarcastic response but her voice failed. She almost got up and left, not wanting to do this anymore. But she knew she had a promise to keep she had to tell this for the sake of the man she would never admit to loving. She swallowed, struggling to regain her composure. When she managed to speak again her voice sounded meek.

"I was at the sex, wasn't I?"

"The fucking, yes." She cringed, knowing that that word wasn't his. He must have rehearsed that, she hoped to god that he had rehearsed that. Though she questioned her own reasoning, he couldn't know what she referred to with that.

"Fucking. Fucking was what I did. He would never have called it that. He always termed it making love. That was sweet, at first. But then I began to realize what that meant for our sex life. To him fucking was rolling into bed, going hard and fast, just getting into a girls pants for the pleasure, the conquest. He didn't do that, it was below him. No, he made love, and making love wasn't just the process of sex, it was in the foreplay as well. It was worshipping every inch of my body with his lips before allowing himself to take me. I love to be taken tenderly him starting by moving slowly, working as he gradually beginning to move faster, and harder causing both of us climax together no matter how long it took. He would never allow himself to come first, he helped insure that by spending hours on the foreplay every time, he wanted me to be ready to climax as soon as he entered, though that pleasure was a rare feat. Even for him…"

The last part of that had not been said the way she had intended, it had been far too breathy, and more emotional than she would ever care to admit. Her former lover would be hearing what she said, there was no reason to allow him to believe that she had needed that emotional attachment during sex just as much as he had. She couldn't to lead him on with that, it was too cruel. She clenched her jaw forcing herself to return to monotone, maybe he wouldn't pick up on the mistake she had already made by showing any sort of fondness for the memory. Her fear prevented him from having a chance in hell, and he needed to know that.

Author's Note-No, this isn't an ending,and yes, I know that it isn't an appropriate place for a chapter break. But I haven't posted anything else as of yet and it's irritating me, so I just gave you what I had perfected. Hopefully I'll have another couple of pages by the end of the week,but I'm not promising anything.


End file.
